


Too Late #2

by katasstropheee



Series: HacyWeek [3]
Category: Charmed (TV 2018)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Nightmares, a bit of body horror, hacyweek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-08
Updated: 2020-07-08
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:14:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25144492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katasstropheee/pseuds/katasstropheee
Summary: She had avoided his gaze, not wanting to see the anger or disappointment his face would surely show. She wasn’t ready for that yet.
Relationships: Harry Greenwood & Macy Vaughn, Harry Greenwood/Macy Vaughn
Series: HacyWeek [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1818364
Comments: 8
Kudos: 26





	Too Late #2

**Author's Note:**

> For day three of [#hacyweek](http://hacyweek.tumblr.com).  
> Prompt: Hurt/Comfort.
> 
> A companion piece to yesterday's entry "Too Late #1".
> 
> We are three days into this week and it has been a blast so far. I just want to thank everyone who has contributed a story, graphic, gifset, or video. Your talents are really showing and it's beautiful to see them all coming together like this. Also, I need to shout out Dannii/[@vaughnsgreenwood](http://vaughnsgreenwood.tumblr.com) for coming up with the whole event and allowing me to assist. She's the real brains behind this operation and deserves a lot more praise for it.
> 
> Anyway, enjoy this short conclusion to this short two-part piece. And don't forget to kudos and leave some kind words behind too. :)

Macy wrings out the cloth, letting loose droplets of hot water roll down her arms. Her rolled-up sleeves are already damp from filling up the small basin. Once satisfied, she folds the parchment in two and turns to Harry.

His eyes are still closed. Body lifeless. He hasn’t stirred once since their return to the manor.

She fights back another outburst of sobs threatening to fly out of her throat. She’s cried enough tonight, enough to know it hasn’t helped. She places the hot cloth on his forehead, dabbing it gently at the corners of his temple. She pauses, swearing his brow just flinched. She dabs again.

Yes. There’s movement. His eyes crease, as if in concentration.

“Harry.”

He stirs a little more, this time in his fingers. They press into the soft quilt as his palm tries to rise up past his waist. She immediately grabs it in her own, as her other hand drops the cloth back into the basin and brushes his cheek.

“Harry, I’m here. Pl-Please come back to me.”

It takes him a moment to open his eyes. When they do, his stare immediately finds her. Her name escapes his mouth, but it comes out garbled. She reacts quickly, moving the hand on his cheek to a glass of water seated on the side table. She lifts the straw to his lips and encourages him to drink. She cradles the back of his neck as he struggles to sit up. He manages three small sips before it becomes too much.

As he reclines back, his hands grip tightly to Macy’s arms. “Wh-what happened?”

Macy opens her mouth, thinking of how she should best answer that question. Honesty seems like the best course of action, but the truth still haunts her. In the time that has passed since the incident, Macy can’t recall coming to terms with it, or even feeling the time as it had flown by.

_What time is it?_ “Harry, I-“

“Macy.”

She looks at his face, but he is no longer meeting her eyes. Instead, he’s staring in awe at her hands. “Harry, There’s something you should… there’s something I need to tell you.”

“You’ve changed.”

“I… What.”

He glances at her again, this time with sparks of shame and sadness. She doesn’t understand. His grip tightens. “It’s okay Macy. We can fix this.”

“Harry, I know I messed up-“

“But I don’t think your sisters should see you like this, do you?”

For a man who was barely conscious not a moment ago, he seemed to be more awake now. His face shows no sign of fatigue, and he’s placing all his strength in the squeezing the blood flow from her arm. She budges, pulling it away as he promptly releases it. She rubs her aching wrist, halting her movement when her fingers graze something… coarse.

She looks down, and howls in surprise. She stands fast enough to knock her chair over and stumbles backwards, praying the distance will erase this hallucination.

But it’s real. The skin on her right wrist is turning blue, flourished with scales. It spreads to her fingers, where her nails are growing to a sharp and unnatural point. “ _What!_ Why is this happening?”

In her manic dismay, she manages to catch her reflection in a mirror across the room. Her face is creased with dark vines. Her eyes are pure black.

She screams.

\---

The jolt in her chest nearly knocks her sideways. She’s lying precariously close to the edge of the bed, and has to stabilise herself quickly before her face meets the floor. Her breathing comes out in harsh, hazardous wisps. Her ribs burn as she sits up and braces her chest.

She’s in her room. It’s dark outside, and the phone on her side desk reads 4.15. It has only been two or so hours since she shut her eyes. She feels unrested – her mind foggy with endless thoughts of dread and doubt. She shakes it in an attempt to clear the cobwebs.

When her eyes assess the rest of the room through the thin vail of moonlight, she catches the draw of a heavy exhale of breath to her right. She turns, and feels a small slice of relief peel away. It isn’t enough to erase any guilt that still sits heavy inside her body.

But seeing Harry breathing and sleeping peacefully beside her dwells that feeling, if just for a while. At least until the sun rises on a new day. Another day Macy avoids glances and questions and stews in the mistakes she’s made.

It has been three days since the fight downtown.

Two days since Harry regained consciousness.

One day since he had learned the truth.

They had gone to bed last night without discussion. Without words. She had avoided his gaze, not wanting to see the anger or disappointment his face would surely show. She wasn’t ready for that yet.

Feeling the rise of another outburst coming on, she turns and places her feet on the floor. She’s about to stand, but a sudden pressure on her hand stops her.

“Macy.” His voice is low, produced like he’s mumbling in his sleep. Perhaps he is.

She ignores her name and the way it makes it her shiver, and tries to stand again.

The pressure is still there. It tugs her back down. “Macy, don’t leave.” The voice is suddenly a little clearer.

She can’t speak. She fears what she might betray if she does. There’s something unspoken lingering between them, and she refuses to be the one to utter the words.

“What are you thinking?”

Her shoulders tense. He doesn’t have telepathy. At least not in the way she understands it. He can only hear her if she says his name with meaning. Out loud. But right now, she is only shouting it in her head. Surely he can’t hear that.

“Macy, I-I need you to look at me.”

His hand has moved from her hand to her wrist. His tug is stronger. Over the past three days, his healing has been progressive. _The perks of being a whitelighter_ , Maggie had marvelled as the sisters had helped him into Macy’s bed. They had all agreed it would be easier to keep watch on him from here, denouncing the attic couch for being far too uncomfortable for Harry’s recovery. And while Macy had wholeheartedly agreed to using her bed at the time, now it was just a constant reminder of how she had put him there to begin with.

“Please Macy. Look at me.”

This is why she refuses to turn. She would rather let the guilt consume her, than to see the love leave Harry’s eyes.

He tugs a bit harder. “I-I don’t blame you.”

She scoffs. An automatic gesture that escapes her throat before she can stop it.

“I bet you expect me to. That I need to blame you for what happened.”

_You should_.

“Given the situation, I think you handled it rather well.”

_What._ That makes her turn. “Are you serious, Harry? What part about you almost _dying_ , says to you I handled it well?”

“Ah. Made you look.” He chuckles, groaning when the movement becomes too much.

“This isn’t funny.”

“I know, I know.” He sighs. He’s now reclined on his back, staring at the ceiling. There’s a small smile still planted on his lips. It irritates her. “I was dreaming of you, just now.” She unconsciously gasps, her own nightmares projected perfectly in her mind. He doesn’t seem to notice the change in her posture, as she faces away and back out towards the window. “We were dancing. You had your head on my shoulder. I couldn’t see your face, but I could feel your smile. It was… warm.” He brushes his cheek. “It’s like… I can still feel it there.”

Macy’s about to break. She needs to get out of there before she cracks under pressure and says something she’ll regret, so once again she attempts to stand.

But his hand had never let go of her wrist. “Macy.” He glances over, watching her flinch under his stare. “ _Jesus_. I didn’t realise.”

“Realise what?” She asks bluntly.

“How much this was affecting you.”

She laughs. It’s without humour, dark and deep in her chest. “Of course I… I _should_ feel this way. I-I could’ve killed you Harry. Why don’t you realise that?? You were so close to death. And it’s… because of me.”

“Why do you think that?”

“Because I- Since I got these powers back, I haven’t been able to control them. Harry, I can feel that dark side of me burning _deep_ in my stomach. And if I don’t release it, it builds and builds and _builds_ and last night, I just… I couldn’t take it anymore. I let it out! I let it out, and I hurt you! I am responsible! God, if it had been Mel, she would’ve…”

She can no longer hold back the frustration. It cascades down her cheeks in tears. She hunches over as the burden finally becomes too heavy to hold up. Harry watches Macy fold in on herself in distress. “No, no. Macy.” He groans as he shifts himself over. Once he’s seated up (as comfortable as he can be) up against the backboard of the bed, he takes Macy’s by the shoulders. She can no longer flee, so she falls.

He places her in his lap and clutches her tightly. She rocks gently against his chest. But the tears won’t stop flowing, and she fails to even her breathing as she releases everything she’d been containing inside.

Harry’s patience and comfort feels undeserved, but she can’t bear herself to leave his embrace. He’s forgiving her, despite it all. She worries this is just another dream her conscious will take away when she’s had too much. But here he is – a beating heart and kind soul, keeping her close to the ground. Reminding her of how far they’ve come, and how strong their love is.

Hiccups starts bursting from her chest, so he holds her tighter. “Macy, I forgive you. There’s no question about it.” He whispers again, over and over; “ _I forgive you_.”

She shakes her head against the absolution. It would take some time to truly believe those words. But for now, all she wanted was to be held like this.

Like time was frozen and giving them a chance to catch their breath.

He forgave her. She was never too late…

**Author's Note:**

> Find me @ [katasstrophee](http://katasstrophee.tumblr.com/) for more Hacy content.


End file.
